


The Firstborn

by erinacea



Category: Christian Bible (Old Testament), Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Child Death, Crowley's Name is Crawly | Crawley (Good Omens), Developing Friendships, Drama, Enemies to Friends, Fratricide, Gen, Male Bonding, Missing Scene, Sibling Rivalry, Siblings, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), The Arrangement (Good Omens), Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-05 19:08:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20493797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erinacea/pseuds/erinacea
Summary: Thousands of years before the birth of the Antichrist, Crowley and Aziraphale already acted as godfathers for the first children ever born: Cain and Abel.You didn't think those initials were coincidence, did you?





	1. Cain

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Deutsch available: [Die Erstgeborenen](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20666771) by [erinacea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/erinacea/pseuds/erinacea)

> This is a retelling of the story of Cain and Abel as told in Genesis 4:1-15.
> 
> I had initially planned to directly quote all dialogue included in the original text, but it turns out that, while obviously the Bible itself is no longer copyright protected, most of the modern translations are. Quoting the older translations would have been safe, but I found them hard to understand. As a result, I’ve decided to take some liberties with the phrasing, which turned out to be a blessing in disguise as it allowed me to adjust the speech to fit the characters and the story. However, I still tried to stick to the original intent.
> 
> At this point of the story, Crowley still goes by the name “Crawley”; angels don’t yet have to hide their nature; and Crawley and Aziraphale are most emphatically not friends.
> 
> Thanks go out to my mum, who despite never having read or seen “Good Omens”, nevertheless insisted I include more scenes with “the angel and the demon” because she liked the characters so much, and to my brother who told me to tone down the annotations a bit. They were both right. :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Featuring Crawley as a snake, a liar, and a midwife. Also, Cain's birth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 1 is based on Genesis 4:1.
> 
> Reminder: At this point in time, Crowley still goes by the name “Crawley”, so no, that’s not a typo.

The Woman was screaming again. The Man was prowling around her, his flaming sword at the ready. His glances were darting this way and that, but he was breathing hard and scowling. He probably realized that even his mighty sword could not protect his wife from what currently threatened her.

From the underbrush, a huge black snake was watching the scene through narrowed eyes. Its forked tongue flickered out; the air tasted of terror and pain. For a moment, it pondered its course of actions.

After the humans had been driven from the Garden of Eden, so had the snake, and it had chosen to follow the humans. It still considered its orders – ‘to cause trouble’ – to be valid, and how could it possibly do that if it left the humans alone? Besides, the humans were interesting. They certainly were resourceful, and the snake admired that. It had expected the Man to slay the hungry beasts attacking them – he had a sword, after all. But then they not only had eaten the wild animals’ meat, but also had whittled tools out of their bones, which the Woman then had used to fashion clothes from the animals’ hides. And when the nights had got cold in the desert, they had learned to use their fiery sword to create longer lasting fire to keep them warm. Yes, the humans were very interesting indeed.

Again, the Woman cried out in pain. The snake bared its fangs and hissed. This had been going on for ages. Clearly, something was wrong. Of course, the truly demonic way – for the snake was, in fact, a demon in disguise – would be to let the humans suffer. But the noise was getting on its nerves. And how could it Tempt anyone if anything were to happen to the humans?

Of course, it could not approach the humans in its snake form. The last time it had tried that, the Man had thrown his flaming sword with unerring accuracy, and only a demonic miracle had made the weapon glance off a stone morphing into existence as the snake slithered out of the way. Naturally, as a demon, the snake was immortal, but its Discorporation would nonetheless be painful and inconvenient. This only left one course of action.

Hissing, the snake reared up, sprouting limbs as it grew until it had transformed into the shape of a man with dark red hair and wings of midnight black. Stretching, he blinked and ran his tongue over his teeth. His eyes had the same yellow colour as the snake’s had been and his pupils were still shaped like vertical slits.

He idly rolled his neck and turned to look at the humans, who still hadn’t noticed him. The Man was currently hovering over the Woman, murmuring words of comfort as she underwent another throe of agony.

The demon stepped out from behind the bushes. Alerted by the rustling leaves, the Man whirled around, his sword at the ready. Then he noticed the demon’s wings, and his eyes widened.

His sword fell to the ground as he sank to his knees. “Lord, help us, please. My wife, she-” He gestured to the Woman, and his voice quavered. “I- I can’t- We need help.” He clasped his hands beseechingly. “_Please_…”

The demon blinked. This was not the expected greeting for a demon. “Me? Help?”

“Yes, oh Lord. For are you not an angel sent from Heaven above?”

The demon frowned. Technically, he supposed this was true. After all, what was a demon, if not an angel who had Fallen from Heaven above?

As she twisted in pain, the Woman screamed again. The demon shot her a nervous glance. He could sense that the unborn soul inside her was getting weaker.

“Yes,” he finally said. “Yes, I am.” Lying came naturally to demons, after all.

He cautiously approached the Woman, who stared up at him with wide unseeing eyes. She seemed to be in too much pain to speak. Meanwhile, her husband had returned to crouching by the Woman’s side. While gently rubbing her back, he glanced up at the demon with wide hopeful eyes.

The demon sighed. Then he deliberately closed his eyes and focused on the three souls in front of him. In his mind’s eye, he could see the souls as colourful lights, two large bright ones, and a much smaller one closely attached to one of the bright ones. The smallest light was flickering intermittently and, little by little, losing its lustre.

Sweat was starting to trickle down the demon’s forehead. After all, he had never done this before; _no one_ ever had. He delicately cupped his hands, held them close to his face, and gently blew into them. Somehow his breath condensed into a fine mist hovering in the bowl formed by his hands. Then he carefully closed his hands, cradled the little sphere of energy for a moment and finally pushed it in the direction of the Woman and her unborn child. The sphere of translucent light shot towards her, easily passing through her hands protectively wrapped around her stomach. For the blink of an eye, her midsection glowed in a soft light, then the energy sank into her body. After waiting for a few more moments, the demon stretched out his right hand as if to grab at the air, and, gritting his teeth, twisted it in a circular motion.

The Woman screamed yet again, holding her distended belly. When she opened her eyes, the sheen of tears was still clearly visible, but the dull look of pain was receding. Breathing hard, she looked at her husband, then the demon and finally at her belly. “Oh,” she said, as a large puddle formed where she was crouching.

~ * ~ * ~

There was blood everywhere. The demon wrinkled his nose at the smell, but the Woman didn’t seem to mind as she held a tiny human to her breasts and cooed at him.

Eventually, she turned her head to smile at the demon. “Thank you! What is your name, oh Lord, that we may praise it to the Heavens?”

“Er, that won’t be necessary,” the demon gritted out.

Not to be deterred, she continued. “I’m Eve, this is my husband, Adam,” – the Man nodded at the demon – “and this is …” She glanced down at the little human in her arms, then looked questioningly at her husband, who had so far been the one responsible for naming everything.

“Uh,” he began, sounding out syllables. “Child. Boy. Baby. Son.”

She shook her head, smiling. “I like all of these, but he needs a proper _name_… Like Adam, or Eve, or our benefactor -?”

She trailed off significantly, and the demon sighed. “Crawley,” he answered at last. “My name’s Crawley.”

“Crawley,” the Man – Adam - mused. “Maybe _that_ would be a fitting name?”

“Um, no,” the demon Crawley interjected hastily. “That would be a terrible idea!”

“No?” Adam scratched his jaw. “Right. I suppose it would be rather presumptuous to name a human after an angel.”

“Er, yes,” Crawley choked out. “Exactly. Awful idea. Blasphemous, really.”

“Craw-ley, Cawl, Ca-lay,” the Woman – Eve – muttered different variations, while the demon listened with rising horror. Finally, her face lit up. “I know.” She smiled down at her son. “His name shall be _Cain_, for with the help of the Lord, I have given birth to a man.”*

~ * ~ * ~

Winter came and went. One bright morning, the black snake that was Crawley emerged from the underground cave, in which he had slept through the cold season. He had never experienced winter before – of course, neither had the humans – and took great pleasure in the sun heating up his scales once again.

In the distance, he could hear a child cry. So the humans were still around then. Crawley was not surprised. They were amazingly resilient, after all. When the first snow had started to fall, Crawley had been looking for a warm place to coil up and sleep, but the humans had found ways to make their environment warmer instead. Eve had deftly stitched together the hides of deer Adam had hunted into some form of makeshift housing. They’d also wrapped themselves and their son in more hides and paid close attention to the fire that kept them warm.

When Crawley returned to the camp site, Eve was nursing the baby and Adam was turning the goat roasting in the ashes of the night’s fire. The humans greeted him like an old friend and invited him to break fast with them. Demons had no need for food, so naturally he declined the offer, but curiosity made him stick around to watch the little human. It seemed strange to Crawley that, after all this time, the child was still incapable of talking or walking on his own. To him, this seemed inefficient and downright dangerous, but for some reason the humans, despite having been Created fully formed just like Crawley had been, didn’t seem to mind. On the contrary, their son’s helplessness seemed to bring out some kind of protective instinct.

As Cain learned to crawl, walk and run, he started to trail after his mother whenever she went out to gather fruits and herbs. Like Adam, she always kept a watchful eye on the ground, looking out for snakes. Yet she never spotted Crawley hiding in the bushes, whose very presence kept other beasts away.

Crawley noticed with some amusement that both mother and son completely bypassed some herbs that, despite their sour smell, were perfectly edible. He wondered whether he should re-enact that fateful moment years ago when he’d advised Eve to try another kind of fruit. Then again, given the outcome, he expected her to be highly suspicious of anyone making such suggestions, particularly if that someone happened to share a pair of slit eyes with the serpent from Eden. Crawley speculatively eyed the child. Maybe the boy would be more likely to listen to his whispers…

~ * ~ * ~

Crawley was lazing on the grass, ostensibly watching Cain, but mostly enjoying the sun warm his skin. Things were going exceedingly well. Once Crawley had suggested it, the boy had shown great interest in growing edible plants. They had set up a little field, and Cain had quickly understood the basic idea of planting grains and vegetables to reap their fruits later. Crawley had let Cain name all the plants they’d come across. Not only had this saved him the trouble of having to come up with names, but the boy had taken great pride in the task and had remembered every plant he had named so far. Possibly this was a knack he had inherited from his father.

All of a sudden, Crawley became aware of an aggravating buzzing sound. When he opened his eyes, he was greeted by the sight of an enormous black fly buzzing angrily in front of his face. He groaned inwardly; this was going to get messy. If he survived this, maybe his next lesson should involve teaching Cain to swat flies.

Pushing himself up, he glanced back at the boy, who was still happily digging in his little field. Once his senses confirmed that there were no wild beasts around, Crawley withdrew beyond the line of the trees until Cain was well out of sight. The buzzing sound kept pace with him.

When he estimated the boy to be well out of earshot, he turned on his heels and immediately plunged into a deep bow. “Lord Beelzebub, what an unexpected honour.”

The fly had transformed into a short figure of vaguely androgynous shape.** Other than most demons or angels, Lord Beelzebub had _not_ chosen a gender to go along their assigned Corporation, believing it an unnecessary distraction from the duties of Hell. Her – or possibly his - wings and tunic were as dark as Crawley’s, though both were considerably more frayed. However, what marked him – or her - as someone occupying a senior position in Hell was the gigantic fly’s head they were wearing on top of their humanoid head, including antennae and a second pair of multifaceted eyes.

The Archdemon ignored Crawley’s greeting and instead snarled, “What the Hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Well, until a moment ago, I was enjoying the sun, an old reptilian habit…”

Beelzebub cut right to the point. “The humans believe you to be an _angel_.” They spat the word like it left a nasty taste in their mouth.

Crawley shrugged. “Yeah, they’re gullible like that.” He shook his head fondly. “Black wings, white wings – they don’t see the difference at all.”

“Do _you_ think you’re an angel, Crawley?” The threatening tone was slightly undercut by the angry buzzing sound accompanying it.

“No, of course not!” Crawley hastened to deny the accusation. After all, this was hardly the right time to insist on technicalities. “But it sure makes things easier if _they_ do.”

Beelzebub narrowed their humanoid eyes. “What _‘things’_? We haven’t seen _any_ evil deeds from you since you left the Garden.”

“What am I supposed to do, bite the boy?”

“That would certainly be evil, yes.” The buzz accompanying Beelzebub’s speech took on an unmistakably pleased quality.

“But completely pointless! It would be evil for Evil’s sake…”

“Yes, exactly.” The Archdemon grinned widely, showcasing a set of brownish teeth.

“How am I supposed to Tempt anyone if I go around killing them?”

All four eyes focused on Crawley. “Do you have a better idea?”

“_Yes!_ I’ve got this truly diabolical plan, but first I need to gain their trust.”

“The young one is right there.” Beelzebub nodded in the direction of the field. “Full of trust and completely defenceless. So what the Hell are you waiting for?”

Crawley’s voice dropped into an ingratiating tone. “I thought you liked the bit with the serpent and the apple... _That_ took a bit of time to set up, and ever since then the humans have become much more suspicious.” He wasn’t even lying now. “The Man even tried to _kill_ me once!”

Beelzebub harrumphed. “Never forget you’re a _demon_, Crawley!”

“Trust me, I know what I’m doing…”

Crawley breathed a sigh of relief when the Archdemon had finally gone, leaving behind a strong sulfuric smell and a swarm of flies. It was remarkable, really, what you could achieve with a bit of confidence and a bold-faced lie. In all honesty, he had no idea what he was doing, and he certainly didn’t have a plan. Crawley scowled. Lying through your teeth to your boss probably _was_ a type of evil action, though not one that Lord Beelzebub was likely to appreciate. That meant he’d have to come up with some more traditional demonic activities to keep Hell off his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *) “Cain” resembles the Hebrew verb translated as “bring forth” or “acquire”, which I’ve chosen to translate as “give birth” here.
> 
> **) Traditionally, Beelzebub is considered male, but in the show the character’s presented as non-binary, so that’s what I’m going for here. Also, apparently, “Lord” is a gender-neutral title applicable to everyone.


	2. Abel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introducing Aziraphale just in time for Abel's birth. Aziraphale is maybe a bit too trusting, and Crawley has a Plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 is based on Genesis 4:2.

It was a day like many days since the humans had left their little paradise. Beyond the high walls, monkeys were screeching, birds were chirping, and all kinds of undisturbed life took place. But all the angel leaning against the outer wall ever saw was miles and miles of desert. For years, he had been faithfully standing guard in front of the Garden of Eden to prevent the humans from returning, and by now it had become painfully clear that they had no intention of doing so. The only break in his monotonous task was the inspection of the Garden’s outer walls in a walk all around the Garden that he undertook twice a week. And even that had become routine long ago. He didn’t expect the walls to ever show the slightest crack or defect – they’d been erected by the Almighty, after all - and they never did. In the angel’s opinion, it wasn’t his place to question his divine duty, but privately, he sometimes thought it a rather pointless exercise. It might be more efficient to simply erase the Garden from existence altogether. Whenever such thoughts crossed his mind, however, they were closely followed by a flash of guilt.

Suddenly the angel became aware of a bright light flickering into existence a few steps away. Startled, he blinked and stood to attention. He flapped his wings a few times to dislodge any specks of dirt and nervously combed his fingers through his blond curls. Then he folded his hands and schooled his face into a welcoming smile. The light grew larger and brighter, and finally a second angel stepped out into the sunshine. His robe was of a much finer material than the first angel’s woollen tunic and of an immaculate white that shone all the more brightly in comparison with the first angel’s dusty garb. His wings, however, were of the exact same pristine shade of white shared by all of Heaven’s faithful angels.

“Ah, Aziraphale!” the new angel greeted genially. “How are you holding up?”

“Uh, fine. I’m fine,” the first angel - Aziraphale - stammered. “Everything’s fine. No sign of the humans at all.” Belatedly, he remembered his manners. After all, it had been a while since he’d last talked to anyone. “Er, thank you for visiting, Lord Gabriel. Welcome to Eden!”

The new angel – Archangel Gabriel - clapped his hands together. “Let me get right down to business. Heaven has decided that you’re to be reassigned.”

“Re- Reassigned?” Aziraphale didn’t quite manage to keep the hopeful tone out of his voice.

“One of Lucifer’s demons is digging his claws into the Almighty’s creations...”

Aziraphale frowned. “Aren’t we _all_ the Almighty’s creations?”

The Archangel ignored the comment and continued, “… a demon by the name of Crawley. You may have met him around here.”

Aziraphale blinked. “Uh, maybe...” The name certainly seemed familiar.

“We need an angel around the humans to thwart this demon’s wiles. The choice has fallen on _you_” – this was underscored by a pointed finger – “since you’re already familiar with the peculiarities of Earth. In fact, the humans might even remember you if you’ve ever talked to them before.” He raised his eyebrows in unspoken question.

Aziraphale nodded. “I did. Adam and Eve.” The memory brought a smile to his face. “Such a charming couple.”

Gabriel gleefully rubbed his hands. “Jolly good. Well then, the humans have set up camp some distance to the east. They should be easy to spot.”

“Good. That’s… That’s good.” Aziraphale felt a bit rattled. After years of standing guard over an uncontested area all by himself, he found it difficult to keep up with the pace at which things were changing all of a sudden.

The Archangel glanced at Aziraphale’s folded hands and furrowed his brows. “What happened to your flaming sword?”

Aziraphale licked his lips and swallowed. “Um, well, I’ve, er, put it down for a moment. To, erm, cool down in the shade.” Blushing, he realized he was babbling and shut his mouth.

The Archangel frowned. “Just don’t forget to take it with you. After all, it might be needed to fend off Evil.”

Aziraphale nodded with a nervous smile. “Er, yes. Yes, of course.”

Gabriel clapped his hands once more. “All right then. Any questions?” He waited just long enough for Aziraphale to mutely shake his head. Then, with a parting nod, he exclaimed, “Blessings be upon your mission!”, and evaporated into golden sparks.

A smile spread over Aziraphale’s face. It was a relief to finally leave this place. Though he’d privately hoped to be allowed to return to Heaven, any reassignment was Good, pretty much by definition.

He glanced around. Was he supposed to do a final round? He’d blocked up the gate years ago, and during his previous inspection two days ago the walls had been as high and sturdy as ever. And of course there was no point looking for a misplaced sword, flaming or otherwise. So was there anything else left to do? He frowned. Maybe he should have asked Gabriel. Then again, the Archangel had been crystal clear that Aziraphale was needed elsewhere and, conversely, had not at all seemed worried about what happened to the Garden. Aziraphale idly wondered whether someone else was going to take over his guardian duty or whether Heaven had finally decided to abandon the place.

Conscientiously, he placed his hand on the walled-up gate one last time and murmured a quick prayer to ensure its durability. Once satisfied with the result, he turned to look east. Smiling, his mind full of a future that involved far fewer walls and far more company, he finally spread his wings and took flight.

~ * ~ * ~

Eve was sitting in the shade of their little tent, focused on weaving strips of grass into a small basket. Occasionally, she laid her hand on her swollen belly and smiled. When she glanced up, something caught her attention. Frowning, she screwed up her eyes, then called out, “Adam! Come, look!”

Her husband was never far from his pregnant wife and, moments later, he rushed into the clearing, brandishing his sword. Eve pointed. “Look! Do you see that? I’ve never seen a bird like that.”

Adam followed her gaze and raised his hand to shield his eyes against the glare of the evening sun. “I don’t think it’s a bird,” he muttered, squinting at the strange shape that was rapidly approaching. Finally he gave an exclamation of surprise. “It’s an angel!”

“Another one?”

Adam laughed. “Yes. Another one, and just when our second child is due. Truly, we’ve been blessed by the Heavens.”

A short time later, Aziraphale landed in the clearing, out of breath, but immensely pleased with himself for having located the humans so easily. Gabriel had been right; the humans had been easy to spot from high above. Even without the smoke spiralling skywards from their camp fire signalling their presence, they’d left their mark on the landscape. For one, it was impossible to mistake their tent for a natural structure, and more obviously, beyond their tent lay an orderly patch of field that stood out among the surrounding wilderness.

He bowed to the humans, and they returned the greeting in kind.

“Aren’t you the angel who gave us this sword?” Adam asked, briefly lifting his weapon.

“Yes, indeed. I’m gratified to see you’ve been taking good care of it.”

Adam gave a deep bow. “We can’t possibly thank you enough. It has served us well.”

Aziraphale squirmed happily. “Oh, well… I’m glad to hear that. Don’t mention it. But how is your family doing? I mean, I couldn’t help noticing you were in family way before…” He trailed off delicately.

Eve smiled. “Our eldest is with the other angel right now.”

The _other _ angel? Aziraphale blinked. Didn’t Gabriel trust him with this task on his own? It hadn’t taken him _that_ long to reach the humans.

His musings were interrupted by a little boy running into the clearing and yelling in excitement. “Mother, Father!” The boy jumped into his father’s arms. “Did you know? Earthworms _poop_ earth!”

Adam and Eve glanced at one another and burst into laughter. Aziraphale couldn’t resist joining in.

Earnestly, the boy continued, “We chopped them in half. And then we had two!” * 

Aziraphale’s smile froze. _Chopping worms into half?_ His unspoken question was answered by a familiar voice grumbling, “You weren’t supposed to mention that, Cain...”

Aziraphale whirled around. A _demon_ had sauntered into the clearing, clearly recognizable as such by his blackened wings. Aziraphale’s eyes widened in recognition. Yes, now he remembered the demon Crawley, who had acted as the serpent in Eden and had brought Sin into the world. When the demon caught sight of Aziraphale, his lips curled and his pupils contracted into narrow slits.

“Is _he_ the ‘other angel’ you mentioned?” Aziraphale indicated the demon.

“Oh, yes.” Smiling uncertainly, Eve glanced between the two of them. “Do you know each other?”

“Erm, yes…” Aziraphale choked out, while the demon merely glared at him.

Raising his eyebrows, Adam hefted the boy and glanced at his wife. “Maybe we should give the angels some space.”

Nodding, Eve followed him in direction of their field.

As soon as they had disappeared, Aziraphale rounded on the demon again, though the latter spoke up first. “What the Hell are _you_ doing here?” he spat in obvious distaste.

“_Me_? You’re the one who -” Aziraphale took a deep breath and drew himself up to his full height. “Heaven has decided that you need watching over, foul serpent!”

The demon glared. “Whatever for? They already kicked me out of Eden.”

“You, and everyone else,” Aziraphale muttered under his breath.

“So what if I followed the humans? It’s not like I’ve actually done anything.”

“Yet!” Aziraphale objected. “And besides, you’re clearly intent on leading the child astray.”

The demon sneered. “Protector of earthworms, are you, angel?”

“Teaching him to lie, to harm the Almighty’s creations…” Aziraphale wrung his hands.

“You do realize the humans eat _meat_, don’t you?** They worked that out long before I arrived. In fact…” His voice took on an unmistakable tone of pride. “In fact, I’ve been showing them _alternatives_.” He smirked.

Aziraphale blinked. “You what?!”

“I showed them what else they could eat.”

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes. “Like what, pray? Apples?”

The demon rolled his yellow eyes. “Apples don’t grow here, and they’re unlikely to accept them, anyway. I’m talking of grains, angel,” he explained patiently. “Barley, wheat, rye.”

Aziraphale had never heard of any of these terms. Seeing his confusion, the demon continued. “Look, I didn’t come up with the names. I let the boy name them.” The corners of his lips quirked upwards. “He’s called _Cain_.”

It was the fond touch in the demon’s voice that made Aziraphale decide, on the spot and against all reason, _not_ to warn the humans about the serpent in their midst. The boy had seemed happy and healthy, after all, and maybe even a demon deserved a second chance. If this particular demon was trying to work his way back into the Almighty’s good graces, who was he to begrudge him that?

Still, Aziraphale vowed to keep a close eye on the demon, just in case. Nobody was going to harm the humans on his watch.

~ * ~ * ~

Aziraphale cooed at the baby boy Eve was holding in her arms.

She smiled. “Do you want to hold him?”

“Me? I don’t –”

Without waiting for his reply, she carefully placed the child in Aziraphale’s arms, and he was too stunned to protest. He cautiously cradled the boy, who gurgled happily. Tentatively, he tickled one of the child’s feet, which elicited a peal of laughter. Aziraphale smiled proudly.

“Maybe we could name him after the good Lord Aziraphale?” Eve suggested.

Flattered, Aziraphale wriggled his shoulders. “Oh, well, that really… I mean, I couldn’t possibly accept…” He trailed off hopefully.

“The other angel suggested it might be blasphemous,” Adam cautioned.

“Blasphemous? Really?” Aziraphale blinked. “Oh, that… I suppose that might be true. And I guess it’s a rather long name for such a small child.”

“Something shorter, then.” Adam furrowed his brows. “How about _Abel_? Like the gust of wind that carried the angels to us?”***

Aziraphale beamed. “I’ve never had anyone named after me.”

~ * ~ * ~

Leaning against a palm tree on a small hill, Aziraphale watched the goings-on in the field below. As the boys had grown, so had the little patch of soil. Recently, a pair of wild goats had discovered the field as a reliable food source, to the children’s delight and the obvious annoyance of the demon. Presently, the latter was trying to shoo off the animals, but it was like they were taunting him on purpose. Whenever he’d managed to corner one of them, the other would return to the middle of the field to chew at the shoots Cain and the demon had planted.

Aziraphale was close enough to hear the demon swear profusely. Even if not traditionally evil, he certainly was a bad influence. Pursing his lips in disapproval, Aziraphale decided it was time to step in.

Materializing next to the vexed demon, he pointed out reproachfully, “You know… If you wish to pass for an _angel_, you’ll have to pay attention to your choice of words. We tend to frown upon strong language.”

The demon glared at him. “Oh, do shut up, angel! I could use a hand here.”

“Why should I help _you_?”

“Not me. Them!” He gestured at Cain, who was currently racing after one of the goats, yelling and brandishing a stick, and at Abel, who was running after his brother trying to keep up. “This is _their_ livelihood.”

“Why don’t you simply perform a demonic miracle?”

“In front of _them_?” He jerked his head at the children. “I’m trying to keep a low profile here.”

“Low profile?” Aziraphale chuckled. Catching the demon’s glance, he explained, “Well, you _are_ a snake.”

The demon scowled. “Make yourself useful or go away, angel! Don’t you have some harp to play?”

“I’m afraid I’m not very musical,” Aziraphale responded primly. “That’s why they sent me to Earth in the first place.”

The demon rolled his eyes. “Figures.”

With a shriek of laughter, Abel veered off to chase after the other goat instead. It bleated and gave a startled jump. Then it paused, almost appearing to judge its own size against that of the approaching boy. Finally, with another warning bleat, it lowered its head and charged. Startled, the boy stumbled backwards, fell and started to cry.

It all happened so fast that Aziraphale didn’t know how to react. To his own horror, he found himself helplessly wringing his hands. Cursing, the demon swung his right hand in a circular motion, and –

Time stopped. The goat paused mid-canter, its horns inches from the crying boy, who had frozen with a hand rubbing at his eyes.

Aziraphale snatched up the child and turned to stare at the demon, who had grabbed the frozen goat by its horns in an attempt to wrench it out of the way. “How did you do that?”

The demon hardly glanced at him and merely shrugged. “Demonic power.”

“Can _all_ demons do that?”

The demon looked at him askance. “You don’t seriously expect me to answer that, do you?”

Aziraphale swallowed. “No, I – I suppose not. But -” He closed his eyes and breathed in shakily. “That was _kind_ of you.”

The demon scoffed. “I’m a demon. I’m _not_ kind!”

“Using your powers for Good… Protecting a child… That’s kind.”

“Maybe I’ve got ulterior motives…” the demon hissed.

Aziraphale furrowed his brows. “If that’s the case, then why are you telling me?”

“Uh.” The demon worked his jaw for a moment, then schooled his face into a haughty smirk. “You couldn’t possibly understand, angel. It’s all part of my nefarious plan.”

When the demon snapped his fingers, time obligingly resumed. Instantly, the goat continued charging into now empty space, before, thoroughly spooked, it bounded away in great leaps. Meanwhile, Abel proceeded to cry and now wrapped his arms trustingly around Aziraphale’s neck.

As he comforted the sobbing boy, Aziraphale’s mind was reeling. He still didn’t have the slightest idea what the demon might be plotting. As far as he could tell, all his deception and profanity notwithstanding, the demon had acted nothing but friendly around the humans. It just didn’t make any sense. But why would he lie about this? Maybe this _was_ all part of a devious plan, and if it was…

Aziraphale grimaced. Today had proven that if the demon ever put his mind to it, he would be a terrifying adversary. It was high time for Aziraphale to start thwarting those wiles. When he glanced at the child in his arms, an idea formed in his mind.

~ * ~ * ~

Nervously, Abel held out a tuft of long grass. The goat narrowed its horizontal pupils and stared at him in deep suspicion. The boy flinched and withdrew his hand whenever it so much as bleated at him.

Aziraphale sighed. This was the fourth time they’d tried this. So far, each attempt had ended with the boy losing his nerves and backing away as the goat approached, dropping the grass in the process. Aziraphale supposed this was only natural. After all, Abel was still very young and had only recently had a frightening experience involving a goat charging at him.

When the demon had seen their pitiful attempts, he had mocked their efforts. He hadn’t seen the point in trying to befriend the animals, preferring to scare them off instead. But that was all right; Aziraphale had a plan, too.

“It’s all right,” he coaxed in a low voice meant to reassure both boy and animal. “Maybe try the other plant instead.” With an encouraging smile, he handed Abel a kind of herb the boy’s brother had proudly claimed to be called ‘fennel’.

Obediently, Abel took the new kind of feed and cautiously stretched out his hand. The goat gave an inquisitive sniff and warily moved closer. When the boy gazed at him with guileless brown eyes, Aziraphale tried to exude confidence. “It’s all right,” he repeated. “It’s just curious.” He nodded encouragingly. “That’s good.”

The goat took another step to sniff the offered herb. When Abel gave a nervous twitch, Aziraphale placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. Finally, the animal extended a long tongue and dragged large portions of the plant out of the boy’s hand. An awed smile appeared on Abel’s face as the goat withdrew a little to chew its prize in peace. Once it had swallowed the greens, it approached once again and proceeded to lick at Abel’s fingers in its attempt to get at the remainder of the herbs.

After a short moment of uncertainty, the boy’s squeals turned into giggles. When Abel turned to face him, he was smiling proudly, and Aziraphale felt his spirits soar with the boy’s. If they kept this up, soon the goats would become livestock rather than pests.****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *) While there are allegedly some species of worms that can regenerate into two when cut in half, in general, that’s not the case. Also, while earthworms’ burrowing activity helps create humus, they don’t “poop earth”, though that seems like a child-appropriate explanation.
> 
> **) According to some Bible commentaries, all creatures were originally vegan, living entirely on fruits, and even today’s predators only became carnivorous after Adam and Even left Eden.
> 
> ***) The Hebrew version of Abel's name could be associated with "vapour" or "puff of air".
> 
> ****) Not only were goats the first animals to be domesticated, but today’s domesticated goats can be traced back to the wild goats (Bezoar ibex) of Zagreb Mountains, which is actually quite close to ancient Mesopotamia, the assumed location of Eden.


	3. Rivalry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cain and Abel are growing up. Crawley and Aziraphale watch and occasionally meddle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, short chapter. At the last moment, I've decided to split chapter 3 into two because they're really wildly different. The (now) second part is still giving me some trouble that I'll hopefully have fixed by tomorrow.

Cain gripped the stick hard and swung. Laughing, Abel dodged the blow and brought his own stick around. The clatter of the sticks and the boys’ peals of laughter rang above the clearing. Since Cain was both taller and stronger than his younger brother, this should have been an easy win, but Abel was surprisingly nimble and tended to jump around a lot like one of his easily excitable goats. Whenever he managed to dodge one of Cain’s attempts to hit him, Abel’s face would break into a wide smile, and sometimes they’d even have to pause their fight to deal with yet another bout of contagious laughter.

Watching from his vantage point up on the hills, Aziraphale commented, “I don’t know, demon. This ‘game’ of yours seems pretty aggressive.”

“Nah, they’re just releasing pent-up energy. Otherwise, they’d run around all night yelling and keeping me awake.”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. “You’re a demon. You don’t _need_ to sleep.”

“Maybe not,” the demon allowed. “But it’s so relaxing…” As if to prove the point, the demon stretched his neck and shoulders. “Besides, the humans also need their sleep.”

“True.”

Aziraphale winced in sympathy as one of the boys hit the other. “I liked the other game better. Where one tries to find the other. Almost like they’re searching for a loved one.”

The demon grimaced. “Ugh. That’s a rather… soppy way to look at it, angel. I was more thinking of a predator stalking its prey.”

~ * ~ * ~

The brothers continued fighting until Cain landed a particularly heavy blow on his brother’s head and Abel cried out in pain.

Cain huffed in annoyance. “Oh, don’t be such a cry-baby. I hardly hit you at all…”

This only resulted in Abel crying harder. It didn’t take long for their mother to come running into the clearing. She scooped up her younger son, who sniffled and burrowed his face in the crook of her neck. Then she turned to send a withering glance at his older brother. “What did you do, Cain?”

Cain looked mulish. “We were just playing.”

“Playing? You hurt your brother!” she snapped.

“I didn’t make such a fuss when he hit me first.”

“I don’t care. You’re the elder and supposed to take care of your brother. And don’t you roll your eyes at me, Cain!”

Cain scowled. “That’s _unfair_, though.”

“Is it?” Eve pursed her lips. “You’re the older brother, Cain. Never forget that!”

“Wish I could,” he muttered sullenly, too low for her to hear.

~ * ~ * ~

Both demon and angel spent the boys’ formative years vying for the humans’ favour. Crawley had taken Cain under his wing, and so Aziraphale did the same with Abel, each providing guidance and protection to his charge and teaching him the way of the world according to their personal philosophy. Adam and Eve were grateful for the help and gladly entrusted their sons to the two ‘guardian angels’. It had been Eve who had come up with the term, and to Aziraphale’s joy - and despite Crawley’s objections - it had sort of stuck.

The humans had known about the existence of grains before Crawley’s interference, but finding enough grains for the gruel or bread they liked to eat had been difficult and hard work. However, once Cain had started planting and reaping a variety of grains, they became much more accessible. All of a sudden, the family had more than they could eat, so they started storing them, and consequently grains became a common ingredient in their meals even outside the harvesting season. Cain took great pride in his contribution to his family and, over time, refined the process by only planting seeds from the most promising plants that either produced a lot of grains or particularly big ones. That idea hadn’t even occurred to Crawley, who watched in amazement as his young charge developed a craft out of what had once been a simple attempt at gaining his favour.

Meanwhile, Abel had continued to feed the wild goats. Soon, they ceased being aggressive around him and, eventually, even came when he called them. When the goats bred and had young kids, Aziraphale, to Abel’s delight, managed to convince his parents to keep them around. Adam even built a small pen to keep them contained, and Aziraphale helped out with small angelic miracles to keep the structure safe and stable. Soon, goat meat became an occasional addition to their meals whenever Adam returned empty-handed from one of his hunting trips*, and Abel started milking the doe regularly, thus also adding milk to the table.

In turn, Crawley encouraged Cain to try planting other kinds of vegetables, and once, they spent weeks experimenting with fermented grains until they discovered something Cain called ‘beer’. These, too, were welcome additions to the humans’ diet, though privately, Aziraphale questioned Crawley’s intentions in introducing the humans to alcoholic drinks.

~ * ~ * ~

Adam and Eve recognized the important role the angels had played in improving their life, and one day, in thanks, they invited them to join them for dinner. Crawley, who generally preferred to stay out of the family’s way, immediately declined the offer. Aziraphale, however, liked spending time with the humans, and it didn’t take much for him to agree to the humans’ request.

Afterwards, while taking a night-time stroll to deal with the unfamiliar digestion process, Aziraphale was accosted by the demon.

“What the Hell was that, angel?” The demon was casually leaning against a palm tree, but if he hadn’t spoken up, Aziraphale might easily have overlooked him. His darker hair, and black tunic and wings meant that the demon tended to fade into the landscape at night. Merely his eyes were glinting in the darkness.

Aziraphale furrowed his brows. “What was what?”

“That.” He gestured at the humans’ tent that now lay quiet in the night. “You know we don’t need to _eat_.”

Aziraphale shrugged. “They invited me. Accepting was the polite thing to do.” Predictably, the demon scoffed. “Besides, you’re one to talk. You spend half your time _sleeping_.”

“That’s different.”

“Oh? How so?” Aziraphale raised his eyebrows.

The demon gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Just is.”

“I happen to enjoy the humans’ company. And, for what it’s worth, the meal _was_ delicious.” He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I actually think I might like milk better than manna.”

The demon snorted. “Really? I’ve never cared much for manna myself.”

Aziraphale glanced at the demon. “Don't tell me you didn't try the beer, at least. You helped invent it, after all.”

“Um. Maybe...” The demon scowled. “That hardly counts, though. I'm sure that drinking alcohol is an accepted demonic activity.”

“No, it isn't. You just made that up.”

“Anyway, drinking's just for enjoyment. Not... stuffing our bodies with food.”

Aziraphale resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he decided to change the topic. “They’re asking about you. I’m sure Cain would like you to occasionally spend time with his family.”

“Yeah, right. That’s not going to happen.”

“I’ve been covering for you, you know.”

“Yes, and I’m sure I’m very grateful.” Aziraphale didn’t have to see the demon’s reaction to know he was rolling his eyes.

He narrowed his eyes. “You should be!”

The demon gave another shrug. “I haven’t harmed anyone, now have I?”

It was pointless to continue this conversation. They’d discussed this often enough already. In truth, Aziraphale wasn’t sure why he _still_ hadn’t shared the demon’s identity with the humans. Of course, Cain would be devastated, but the boy also had every right to know the truth. Aziraphale was determined to prove that Good actions were more beneficial to the humans than following the path of Evil, but he wanted it to be a fair competition. Maybe it was prideful of him, but in Aziraphale’s opinion, telling on the demon would be tantamount to cheating. Besides, he was making good progress in influencing Abel towards Good, so maybe he could afford to be generous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *) In the Bible, Adam is presented as a farmer. However, equipped with Aziraphale’s sword, I think it makes more sense for him to have become a hunter instead. Besides, I like the symmetry of the first humans having been hunters (Adam) and gatherers (Eve), and only the second generation introducing agriculture (Cain) and domesticating animals (Abel).


	4. The Sword

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abel becomes a butcher, and envy rears its ugly head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been giving me so much trouble. I must have rewritten it 3 or 4 times. I was sorely tempted to throw it out entirely, but I can't because it contains a pivotal plot point and important character development.

One day, when Abel had just returned with his goats from the pasture, his father called out to him. Abel nodded back and indicated that his father should follow him to the pen. After all, he had an idea what this was about.

As he waved the goats into their pen, Abel reminisced about how his craft had expanded over the last few years. When he had started feeding and milking those goats, he had become a goatherd. Today, he still was a goatherd, but he'd also taken over the role of their _butcher_.

When he'd been a little boy, that duty had solely rested on his father's shoulders, who also killed and skinned the wild animals he caught. Initially, Abel had cried and protested the slaughter of his goats, but his parents had sat him down and explained that they needed the meat, and over time, Abel had come to accept the killings as a natural part of life.

Then, a few years ago, Abel had decided that since the goats were his responsibility, _he_ should be the one killing them. When he had announced this decision, his father had reacted with gratified surprise and had readily agreed to teach him the necessary skills. In the beginning, it hadn't been easy. Of course, he’d previously watched his father slay various animals, but killing one of his goats himself wasn’t quite the same. The first time he'd slit a goat’s throat, he had cried. Even today, it sometimes still felt like he was betraying their trust. But he had made his decision, and he was going to follow it through.

Once Abel had mastered the basic techniques, his father had surprised him, in turn, by insisting that he should use the flaming sword, which previously both Abel and Cain had been strictly forbidden to so much as touch. From that time on, his father also had let Abel take care of not only slaughtering the goats, but also deciding when it was time to do so and which animal to pick.

Abel was determined never to disappoint the trust his father had placed in him and always made sure to handle the blade with utmost caution. When his brother had asked whether he could hold the sword, even just for a short while, Abel had firmly told him no. After all, their father had yet to give permission to Cain.

As his father was approaching him now, Abel expected to be asked to butcher one of his goats. After all, he and his flock had been away for a couple of weeks, grazing by the river. But, once again, his father surprised him.

“Welcome back, Abel! Your mother and I have missed you very much.”

He didn't mention _Cain_, Abel noticed. He and his brother were no longer as close as they used to be, and, other than their teary-eyed mother, Cain had almost seemed pleased to see him gone.

“Thanks, Father. I'm glad to be back.”

“While you were away, I spent a lot of time thinking. Thinking about what would become of you boys and your mother if something were to happen to me.” His father absentmindedly tapped the scabbard he had attached to his belt.

Abel blinked. “Whatever do you mean, Father?” What should happen to _any_ of them? Cain and he were growing up and had taken up different crafts, but other than that their life as a family hadn't really changed.

“The Almighty has told me that, one day, all of us shall return to the dust from whence we came.”

Abel listened with a furrowed brow, but didn't dare interrupt with questions.

“And when that day comes, I want _you_ to take my sword.” Dramatically, his father drew the sword from its scabbard, and it obligingly burst into flame.

Abel’s eyes went wide. “Me?”

His father smiled. “Who else? I’ve seen you handle that sword. You’ve more than proven your skill.” He nodded emphatically. “You _deserve_ to have it.”

Abel knitted his forehead. “But what about Cain?”

“Your brother has never even _held_ a sword,” his father explained dismissively. “And other than Cain, you may need a weapon to protect your flock from predators as well as a tool to butcher the animals meant to feed us. Besides, it was _your_ guardian angel who gifted the sword to us in the first place, so it’s only fitting that you should have it.”

“Wow... Thank you, Father!” Abel smiled proudly. Cain would be so jealous...

~ * ~ * ~

An unfamiliar sense of longing had lodged itself in Cain’s chest.

It had never occurred to him that, one day, his father’s sword would pass on to one of his sons. Cain had always been fascinated by the flames dancing along the blade whenever his father wielded it, so of course he’d been upset that his younger brother had been allowed to handle it before he had. However, he’d understood why Abel might have use for a sword and why he didn’t, so he hadn’t actually complained, but deep down, the distinction had hurt.

All that had changed when Abel had informed him, quite smugly, that their father had promised the sword to _him_. At the very least, Cain wanted to be allowed to wield it, too. Surely, that wasn’t too much to ask, and it only seemed fair. Thus, at the earliest opportunity, he sought out his father to bring up the topic yet again.

“So maybe I don’t _need_ it,” he admitted. “But I _want_ it. I _deserve_ it. I’m the eldest, after all.”

“Cain…” his father warned.

“Every day, I'm doing back-breaking work on the field. All Abel ever does is pet some animals. If anything, _I_ should be rewarded, not him!”

His father frowned. “Your brother does so much more than that, Cain. There would be a lot less meat on the table if it weren't for Abel.”

“You have _two_ sons!” Cain argued. “Why does Abel get to have your sword, and I don’t get anything?”

“You will inherit the Earth.” His father's calmness was infuriating.

“So what?! So will Abel. So will everyone. I. Want. That. _Sword_.” He punctuated each word with a shake of his fist.

“You don’t need it,” his father stated flatly. “Abel does.”

“Then give me something else, something of equal value!”

Sighing, his father turned towards the tent. “Where did we go wrong with you, Cain? Why can’t you be more like your unassuming brother?”

“Let me at least _wield_ it,” Cain called after him, but his father merely glanced at him, gave him a minute shake of the head, and ducked into the tent, thereby signalling that, as far as he was concerned, the conversation was over.

~ * ~ * ~

“Is it _wrong_ to feel angry about this?”

Cain had just finished recounting the events to Crawley, to whom he’d turned for advice. His guardian angel firmly shook his head. “There’s no such thing as bad feelings, Cain. Don’t let anyone tell you that.”

“So you agree it’s unfair, then?”

“Yes,” Crawley hissed through gritted teeth. “Of course, it is.”

Part of the pressure on Cain’s chest let up, and he exhaled in relief. It sure felt good to hear someone take _his_ side, for a change. “What do you think I should do about it?”

“You need to fight back, of course. Fight for what should by right be yours.* You need to stand up to your father and make your case.”

Cain bit his lips. “I don’t know. I mean, I already tried that. He just keeps saying ‘no’.”

“Well… You’ll have plenty more years to change his mind.”

“But what if I ever _do_ need the sword?” Cain insisted.

Crawley shrugged. “You could always simply take it, no matter what your parents say.”

“You mean…” Cain lowered his voice. “_Steal_ it?”

His guardian angel grimaced. “Stealing’s such an ugly word. Call it _borrowing_, why don’t you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *) Cain and Abel were the first children ever, so technically primogeniture (the eldest’s birthright) didn’t exist yet. I guess Crawley just invented it.


	5. The Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cain wants to make a sacrifice and asks Crawley for advice. Things don't go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5 is based on Genesis 4:3-7.
> 
> In this chapter, both Crawley and Aziraphale did something I had not planned for in my initial outline but that ended up making the story better. That's probably why this is my favourite chapter. I love it when my characters develop a life of their own. :)

Crawley shifted uneasily. Once again, Cain was gazing at him expectantly. When had he become the boy’s confidant? He closed his eyes and sighed. “What do you need, Cain?”

Cain took a deep breath. “I’d like to bring an offer to regain the Almighty’s favour.” He bit his lower lip. “That should help. Right?”

Crawley felt a surge of panic. An offer to the Almighty? He was hardly the right entity to ask about that kind of thing. However, out loud he said with practised confidence, “Sure. Certainly can’t hurt.”

“Brilliant! What do I need to do?” The boy’s eyes shone with misplaced faith.

Crawley winced. “Um. Shit, Cain, I- I’m afraid I don’t know…”

Seeing Cain’s crestfallen expression, he thought quickly. The  _angel_ might know. Crawley didn’t  _like_ having to ask for favours, but the alternative would be to tell Cain to ask the angel himself, and that would be tantamount to admitting he was somehow less angelic.

He grimaced. “I’ll see if I can get an answer from, erm, someone higher up. Mind you, I can’t promise anything.”

The boy nodded solemnly. “Thank you, Crawley!”

Thus Crawley found himself wandering the plains in search of the angel. His sixth sense told him the angel was somewhere in the area, but he’d been unable to locate him. Instead, he’d had to resort to the humiliating alternative of shouting, feeling both decidedly stupid and hoping like Hell that Hell wasn’t paying attention.

“Angel? Oh, come on, angel! I know you’re around here somewhere.”

~ * ~ * ~

“Angel! Damn it, where are you?”

Aziraphale felt conflicted. He didn’t  _need_ to be at the beck and call of a lowly demon, but the calls were getting increasingly desperate. Giving in to curiosity, he finally materialized right in front of the demon, who looked unaccountably relieved to see him. “What’s the matter, demon?”

The demon grinned disarmingly. “Um, how would you go about making an offering to the Almighty?”

_What?!_ Aziraphale felt his mouth drop open. “What are you planning to do?” he asked suspiciously.

The demon flung his hands wide. “Not me, honestly. It’s  _Cain_ – he’s decided he wants to make a sacrifice to, erm, ‘regain the Almighty’s favour’.” He gave a lopsided grin. “Unfortunately, I can’t offer much help in that department. But fortunately, I know  someone who might.”

“You- You do?” This conversation was not at all going as Aziraphale had come to expect.

The demon rolled his eyes. “I’m talking about  _you_ , angel.”

_Oh. Yes, of course. _Aziraphale knitted his brows. “Are you _sure_ that’s a demonic thing to do?”

“No, not sure at all.” The demon grimaced and briefly closed his eyes. “But I’m also not sure it’s _against_ the rules, either. After all, the Almighty is at the top of the hierarchy for all of us.”

“But _why_ –?” Aziraphale wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted to ask. _Why are you doing this? Why do you care so much about the boy? _“What’s in it for you?”

Sighing, the demon ruffled his hair. “Does it matter?” he asked in a tired voice. “The boy asked me for help. Are  _you_ going to deny him this?”

Aziraphale mutely shook his head.  _No._ No, he wasn’t.

“So…” the demon hinted. “About this sacrifice?”

Aziraphale inhaled deeply, closed his eyes and concentrated.  _An offering_ , he thought,  _an offering to the Almighty._ As he slowly expelled his breath, somehow the answer simply arrived in his head. It lodged itself into his mind like it had always been there. When he opened his eyes again, he had the demon's full attention.

“Well, first you need an _altar_…” His voice was stumbling over itself in his attempt to relay the information as accurately as possible.

“What’s an ‘altar’?”

Aziraphale briefly focused again. “A kind of clean slab of stone.”

The demon nodded. “We’ve got those. They use them for baking.”

“Anyway, you place the offering on top of the altar and burn it. The offering, that is, not the altar.” He gave a nervous chuckle.

“Burn, as in _fire_?” The demon cocked his head. “I thought that was _our_ dominion.”

Aziraphale smiled. “Not necessarily. Flaming sword, remember?”

The demon’s lips quirked. “Right. What about the offer itself?”

Another moment of intense concentration. “A good offering needs to be something valuable,” Aziraphale recited. “It has to be a bit of a sacrifice, after all. Food might work, but it’s best if it’s something the boy worked hard to achieve.”

The demon furrowed his brows. “How about grains from our field? A lot of work went into those.”

Aziraphale nodded approvingly. “For  _Cain_ , that makes sense. If it was  _Abel _ instead, he might actually have to slaughter one of his new-born goats.” *

“Right. That was… surprisingly helpful.” The demon swallowed. “Uh, thanks, angel… I guess.”

On impulse, Aziraphale extended his hand. “Aziraphale.”

The demon stared. “What?”

“I’ve got a name, you know.” Smiling, he gave his palm an exaggerated wriggle. “_Aziraphale_.”

The demon recoiled. “We’re hardly friends, angel!” he snarled.

“What?! Of course not!” Aziraphale sputtered, hurriedly withdrawing his hand. _An angel and a demon, friends… What a ridiculous idea! _He hastily backtracked. “Uh, good luck, anyway. With the offering.”

He didn’t receive a reply. The demon had already gone.

~ * ~ * ~

Under Crawley’s directions, Cain carried a stone slab to their little field and placed a bowl with freshly harvested rye on top of it. However, just when he was about to light the tinder he had placed among the grains, a gust of wind extinguished his torch. Instinctively, he cringed. Was this a kind of bad omen?

When he glanced at Crawley, the angel heaved a sigh. “I can help you out with, uh, divine fire.”

Crawley rubbed his fingers together and a small flame appeared in his palm. Cain’s eyes widened. He didn’t get to see many miracles these days, and this was a particularly impressive one. Awed, Cain watched Crawley flick his fingers, which caused the flame to obediently jump onto the altar, where it spread to the dry tinder.

Cain smiled. This was going well so far. “What do I do now?”

His guardian angel shrugged. “I guess you should pray, or something.”

Cain dutifully dropped to his knees and folded his hands, as they usually did when they asked for their food to be blessed. “Please, Lord, accept my offering,” he murmured. “All I ask in return is to regain my rightful place in my parents’ esteem...”

The fire started to eat away at the proffered grains, and still there was no reply from above. Cain couldn’t help wondering whether he should expect one, or how else he would know if this was working. He briefly glanced in Crawley’s direction, but then decided to focus on his prayer instead.

~ * ~ * ~

“What are you doing?” _Abel_. Cain rolled his eyes. Leave it to his annoying little brother to butt in when he wasn’t wanted.

He didn’t know how much time had passed, but by now all that was left of his offering was a small pile of ashes. His eyes were streaming from the smoke and the smell of burnt grains filled his nostrils. Wincing, he got to his feet, dusting off his tunic in the process. “I was bringing an offer to the Almighty.”

Abel looked intrigued. “Oh. Why?”

Cain shrugged. “Seemed like a good idea.” He chewed his lips. “But I don’t think it worked.”

“Can _I_ try?”

Cain looked around for Crawley for guidance, but his guardian angel had disappeared. For all he knew, Crawley might have wandered off, or maybe he had simply faded into the background; the angel had a tendency to do that whenever other members of Cain’s family were around. He huffed in annoyance. “I already told you it didn’t work.”

“I want to try anyway.”

Cain sighed. “Well, if you insist… All you have to do is burn your offering on that altar.” He pointed.

His brother cocked his head. “What did you offer?”

Cain smirked. “Grains. But Crawley said if you were to try it you’d have to kill a young goat.”

Abel’s eyes went large and round. “Are you kidding me?”

“No. Honestly, that’s what he said.”

Abel frowned. “Aziraphale says I shouldn’t trust Crawley.”

Cain gave another shrug. “He’s all right. Anyway, angels aren’t  _allowed_ to lie.”

“I thought you said it didn’t _work_,” his brother pointed out innocently.

Cain winced. That accusation stung precisely because it was true. “He  _tried_ , okay? It’s not his fault the Almighty wasn’t listening!”

Abel gasped. “That’s blasphemy!”

“No, it isn’t! It can’t be blasphemy if it’s the truth.”

“I’m going to tell our parents.” Cain felt the sudden urge to strangle his brother. “And then I’m going to ask Aziraphale, and if he says it’s okay, I’m going to give it a try.”

Cain groaned. He never should have told Abel about this. “Why bother?! It’s not going to work, and it would be a waste of good meat. Ask Father, if you don’t believe me.”

Sometimes, Abel could be as stubborn as one of his goats. “I’m going to try,” he repeated.

Cain tried telling himself that his little brother could do whatever he liked, and that he was not at all interested in how it turned out. However, a much larger part of him  _needed_ to see Abel’s attempt turn out as futile as his own. Still, he was a bit surprised when Abel actually returned with one arm firmly around an almost new-born kid that was faintly bleating, and their father’s sword grasped in the other hand. He was closely followed by Aziraphale, who looked almost as excited as Abel himself.

Cain watched intently as his brother repeated his own steps of preparation. As far as he could tell, he had done exactly the same. The obvious difference was that instead of a bowl of grains Abel placed a living, breathing animal on the altar. Abel briefly bowed his head to murmur something, whether a prayer or an apology to the animal, Cain couldn’t tell. Cain watched in fascination as Abel expertly slashed the kid’s throat and blood spattered all over his tunic. He’d never been able to reconcile the image of his gentle, squeamish brother with Abel’s duties as a butcher.

Finally, after another glance at Aziraphale, Abel thrust the flaming sword into the pile of wood surrounding the killed animal, and it didn’t take long for flames to start licking at the carcass. Soon the stench of singed hair and the enticing smell of fried meat wafted through the air. However, nothing else happened, and Cain breathed a sigh of relief. The angel didn’t seem worried, so maybe this was normal, and his own offering had worked, after all.

He heard the sound before he became consciously aware of it; a kind of high-pitched humming that seemed to come from the air itself. As he looked around in bewilderment, the sun broke through the cloudy sky and a single ray of sunlight reached down to caress Abel’s bowed head. For a moment, his entire form was shrouded in blinding light, and golden sparks danced around his head.

When Cain blinked and opened his eyes again, the sky was as overcast as it had been before, the heavenly humming had faded away, and he might as well have imagined it all. Yet when he glanced at the altar, the sacrifice was gone. Only a thin tendril of smoke and a few spots of blood at the base of the altar spoke of the kid’s existence. Abel was staring skywards with an awed expression on his face and the angel was wearing a wide smile.

Shock gave way to betrayal. Cain felt his features contort themselves into a grimace of fury. Traitorous tears prickled at the corners of his eyes.  _Why?_ This was so unfair!

After a long moment during which nobody spoke, Abel finally jumped up. “I’m going to tell Mother and Father,” he announced gleefully and skipped away towards the tents. As he ran, tiny motes of light trailed after him before they, too, faded away. The angel followed him at a more sedate pace.

~ * ~ * ~

Crawley, his dark scales almost invisible against the ground, had watched Cain’s failure and Abel’s subsequent success with growing unease. He couldn’t help wondering where it had all gone wrong. In theory, the angel could have purposefully set up Cain – and him - for failure, but somehow that didn’t seem right. And not just because angels, as a rule, didn’t lie - there were probably exceptions where lying to demons was not just allowed but actively encouraged – but because this particular angel had seemed so earnestly interested when Crawley had brought up the topic. He’d offered to shake a demon’s hand, for Satan’s sake, and surely  _that_ was not encouraged behaviour. Which left the boy. Or him. Or both, since he’d played such an important role in Cain’s upbringing. Crawley bared his fangs in frustration and hissed.

Should he go out there and comfort the boy? Crawley didn’t have the slightest idea how to go about that. When the humans did that, it tended to involve  _hugging_ . The mere thought left a bad taste in his mouth.

Cain, meanwhile, had rallied his spirits enough to try for a second attempt. This time, he emptied an entire pot of grains – probably intended to feed the family come winter - directly onto the flaming sword that Abel had left behind. But instead of prostrating himself in front of the altar as he had done before, he now paced angry circles in front of it. When the column of smoke swirled skywards and still the clouds remained stubbornly clotted together, he paused his pacing and, staring upwards, balled his fists.  _Don’t_ , Crawley thought, closing his eyes. The wind had picked up, whirling the smoke into bizarre patterns and making flaming grains dance through the air.

“What does it take for you to listen?!” the boy yelled into the approaching storm. “Why will you accept Abel’s offering, but not mine?”

And, finally, there was an answer. Both boy and snake shrank back as a voice boomed from the smoke whirling around them. “Wherefore are you so angry, Cain? What makes you so sad?”

The boy, wrapped in fury, dared to shout back. “What do  _you_ think?! My parents, my brother,  _you_ disrespect me.”

Crawley screwed his eyes shut and coiled himself into a protective ball. Had  _he_ raised the boy like this?

The voice echoed with power. “As long as you do what is right, you shall be accepted. But Sin itself is crawling by your side and filling your ears with greed and selfishness. It seeks to control you, but you must overcome it.” **

_Now, wait a moment!_ Before he had time to convince himself this was a terrible idea, Crawley uncoiled and transformed back into his humanoid form. Shielding his eyes against the sting of fiery ashes, he spoke up. “You would punish the boy for  _my_ transgressions, Lord?”

Though it was hard to tell with a disembodied voice, Crawley had the impression its mighty power had refocused on him. “You may pretend to be an angel, Crawley, but you have  _Fallen_ , and I have not forgotten.”

Crawley heard Cain gasp.  _Fuck..._

The storm settled as suddenly as it had come. Glimmering ashes and flaming grains continued to descend and sparked tiny nests of flame all over the field that would die down before they could cause any harm.

Crawley turned towards Cain. “Look, I only meant to help.”

Cain was staring at him, disgust and betrayal written all over his face. “Help? You  _lied_ to me. You’re a  _fallen_ angel, aren’t you? That’s why your wings are all burnt black!”

Crawley swallowed hard. He supposed he deserved Cain’s anger, and it had been a long time coming. “Actually, the term is ‘demon’.” His mouth twitched into half of a grin.

Cain’s face contorted in fury. “This is all your fault,  _demon_ !”

_What?!_ “I taught you all you know, you ungrateful whelp!” Crawley had to remind himself not to lash out against the human boy. “The grains, the field work… that’s not nothing.”

“My parents hate me, my brother hates me, my _God_ hates me…”

“I don’t think they _hate_ you…” Crawley protested weakly.

“… all because of you!”

Raising his hands placatingly, Crawley cautiously approached the boy. “Damn it, Cain, calm down! Don’t… just don’t do anything you would later come to regret.” He tried a reassuring smile.

“I’m done listening to you, demon!” the boy snarled. “Fuck off!” And with that, he bolted away in direction of the hills.

Crawley exhaled a long breath. Sighing, he plopped to the ground and buried his face in his hands.  _Fuck._ He had really screwed this up.

~ * ~ * ~

Some time later, a familiar voice roused him from his bout of self-pity. “Are you all right?”

Crawley jumped to his feet and whirled around in one graceful movement. “What the Hell, angel?! Come to gloat? Have you been spying on me?”

“Of course not!” The angel sounded stung.

“What would you call it then?” Crawley snarled. “'Keeping an eye on me'?”

The angel drew himself up primly. “I merely wanted to check how the offering went.” He glanced around the field, still dotted with glowing embers. “Um, what happened here?”

“Oh, swimmingly,” Crawley scoffed. “Everything went just wonderfully.”

“Oh, really?” The angel had the gall to sound pleased. “That’s marvellous! Abel also tried, and -”

“No!” 

His ferocious growl made the angel take a step back. Then the angel frowned, and his puzzled expression told Crawley that, possibly, his sarcasm had been misplaced. Maybe the angel  _really_ had no idea what had happened.

Sighing, Crawley rubbed his face. “It was a complete and utter disaster.”

“Oh.” The angel paused. “But- But you just said… ” He shook his head. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Apparently it’s all my fault.”

“What is?”

“Everything,” Crawley spat bitterly.

“Well, _technically_…” the angel began.

“Don’t! Don’t you _dare_ say it!”

Miraculously, the angel actually shut up. He kept shooting Crawley worried glances, and after a while Crawley resumed the conversation. “You might be happy to hear that the boy has renounced me.” Somehow, saying it out loud made it worse.

After a delicate pause, the angel suggested with surprising gentleness, “Well… maybe it’s for the best.”

Grimacing, Crawley shook his head. “No.”

The angel wrung his hands. “Of course, you’d see this differently, but, well, you  _are_ a demon…”

“That’s not what I meant. It’s just…” He rubbed his brow again. “This isn’t over yet.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. Something’s going to happen. I don’t know what, but I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

The angel audibly swallowed. “Bad, as in  _evil_ ?”

Crawley shrugged helplessly. “I-”

“You don’t know.”

He sighed. “I don’t know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *) The section of “Cain and Abel” is the first place in the Bible mentioning offering something to the Christian god. Interestingly, while the goal of the “burnt offering” (sacrificing animals) is to atone for one’s sins, the “grain offering” is simply associated with worship. Make of that what you will.
> 
> **) I took some liberties with the dialogue here. In the original text, God speaks of sin “crouching” by “Cain’s tent”, but I couldn’t resist the temptation to replace “crouch” with “crawl” here. Still works, in my opinion.


	6. Bloodshed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One character dies, and three face the Almighty's judgement.
> 
> **Obvious warning for character death!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 6 is based on Genesis 4:8-15.

Abel woke to the sound of his goats bleating in alarm. For a few moments, he simply listened, trying to gauge the source of the commotion. It didn’t sound like they were in pain, or hungry, or sick. But they  _did_ sound nervous, so maybe some kind of predator was slinking around the pen? They didn’t usually get wild beasts around here – the angels made sure of that – but maybe a stray lion had come across the goats’ scent.

Blinking sleep from his eyes, he raised himself up and peered through the tent’s opening flap. It was still night-time. Of course, that didn’t matter. They were his goats; it was up to him to check on them. Sighing, he slipped his tunic over his head and stepped outside.

For a moment, he wondered if he should get the flaming sword from his parents’ tent. After all, his father had given him permission to use it whenever he needed it, and if it  _was_ a lion, he might need a weapon. On the other hand, it didn’t seem right to enter his parents’ tent in the middle of the night, and he  _did_ have a guardian angel, who was probably around here somewhere.

Tonight was unusually dark. A dense blanket of clouds was preventing even the moon and stars from casting their light on the ground. However, he could have followed the familiar path to the goat pen in his sleep, and tonight, in particular, all he had to do was follow the noise.

As he approached the pen, he became aware of a second source of bleating that was moving away. Confused, he paused for a moment. Judging by the sound, it was one the young kids and they tended to stick with their mother. Had some kind of predator snatched one of his goats and was, even now, dragging it away?

Abel gathered up his tunic and ran after the noise. “Stop!”

At that moment, a cloud shifted and Abel could see his brother outlined in the moonlight. “Cain!” he gasped. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“None of your business,” Cain hissed. “Go back to bed, Abel!”*

The goat kid that Cain held firmly in his arms bleated plaintively.

Abel set his jaw. “What are you doing with my goat? Give it back, you thief!”

Cain turned and ran, the struggling kid pressed closely to his chest. Gritting his teeth, Abel ran after him, but it was only when Cain reached the little altar that was still placed in the middle of the field, that Abel realized what his brother was planning to do.

“No!” he howled. “You can’t! That’s _my_ goat.”

Cain made a grab for something tucked into his belt, that, belatedly, Abel recognized as their father’s sword. Fortunately, the hilt snagged on Cain’s belt, and Abel managed to reach his brother before he could free the weapon.

“Stop this, Cain!” he hissed, tugging at the kid, which was desperately kicking its legs and bleating more loudly than ever. “I’m going to tell Father!”

His brother snarled, “I don’t care!”

Abel gave an almighty wrench, and finally the kid slipped from Cain’s grasp and, bleating, bounded away. Close up, Abel saw Cain’s face contort in fury, and that was all the warning he got before his brother knocked him to the ground. In return, Abel grabbed his brother’s legs, and for a short time, they rolled on the ground, punching, kicking, spitting.

Abel blinked through the haze of pain. Cain was clearly the stronger of the two, and he was not pulling any punches. Abel’s nose was bloody and swollen and most likely broken, and he had probably lost a tooth or two, but the only thing that mattered right now was that his goat was safe.

Finally, Cain let up and stood up again. Dazed, Abel stayed on the ground for the moment, wiping blood off his face and trying not to breathe through his clotted nose.

For some reason, Cain turned towards the edge of the field and finally drew the sword, which burst into flame. In the sudden light, Abel was dismayed to see that the kid, rather than returning to its herd, had decided to stop for a snack at the edge of the field. Grinning, Cain hefted the sword and crept towards the goat.  _Oh no, you don’t._ Abel struggled to his feet and launched himself at his thieving brother yet again.

On instinct, more than anything else, Cain whirled around and lashed out.

Abel  _felt_ the blade slice into him. There was pain, but mostly shock. He staggered. As he pressed his hand to his wound, he felt his eyes widen. His vision blurred. He tried to draw breath, to shout, but all that came out was a wheezing gasp. He swayed, his knees gave way…

Then everything went black.

~ * ~ * ~

The sword slipped from Cain’s hand as he dropped to his knees by his brother’s side. “Abel?” he breathed, shaking his brother by the shoulder. “Abel, say something!” His brother’s eyes stared at him accusingly, wide open and unseeing, and when Cain shook him, he didn’t so much as blink. “Abel!”

Cain stared around wildly, drawing breath in fast, shallow gasps. “Fuck, Abel,  _please_ …”

From somewhere the thought occurred to him that anyone could have heard them arguing or fighting. Any moment, his  _parents_ could arrive, and all he knew was that he had to leave  _now_ .

~ * ~ * ~

Drawn by a terrible sense of foreboding, angel and demon appeared on the field at almost the same time.

“Did you feel that?” the angel asked.

Due to his superior night vision, Crawley had already spotted the body. His dry mouth rendered him incapable of speech, so instead of answering he merely pointed to the altar. Squinting, the angel hurried in the indicated direction, absentmindedly snapping his fingers, which caused the whole area to be bathed in soft light. When he saw Abel’s body, he gasped and rushed to his side.

Crawley hung back, a million thoughts whirring through his head. Maybe this was not as bad as it looked? But when he heard the angel whimper, he knew it was  _exactly_ as bad as it looked. Even worse, he had a dreadful feeling he knew exactly who was responsible for this.

“Can you save him?” He was surprised to realize it was his own voice asking this in a sickeningly hopeful tone.

Without turning around, the angel mutely shook his head. The feathers of his wings were trembling, and Crawley thought he heard him sob.

Desperation made Crawley persist. “But you’re an  _angel_ . A real one. Is there  _nothing_ you can do?”

“It’s too late,” the angel choked out. “His soul has already left…”

_Left where?_ Crawley wanted to ask, but it didn’t really matter. Right now, he had no place being here. It was too late to help Abel, but he still had a chance to catch up with Cain. The boy couldn’t have gotten far.

Focusing on the boy’s familiar presence, he dematerialized and reappeared at the edge of the valley beyond the hills. Cain had curled up in the shade of a huge boulder. When Crawley cautiously approached, he saw the boy was hugging his knees and rocking himself.

More gently than he had intended, Crawley called out, “Cain… What have you done?”

Sniffling, the boy looked up. “I didn’t mean to.” He wiped at his nose. “It’s all your fault, anyway!”

Crawley gritted his teeth. “My fault?”

“You _told_ me to fight back!”

“Not… Not like that!”

Crawley was still debating with himself how to approach the situation when the clouds parted in a sudden gust of wind and a blazing light shone down from the sky. Alarmed, Cain sprang to his feet and pressed his back firmly against the boulder.

“Cain!” the Almighty’s voice boomed out. “Where is Abel, your brother?”

“Uh…” The boy looked wildly around at Crawley, who helplessly waved his hands. “How should _I_ know?! Am I my brother’s keeper?”**

Crawley hissed and buried his face in his hand. Lying to an all-knowing, all-powerful entity was not only pointless but actively asking for trouble.

“Do not lie to me, Cain! What have you _done_?”

“I… Nothing. I didn’t mean to, I swear!”

“Listen, Cain!” the voice rang out. “Your brother’s blood cries out to me from the soil. Tell me, Cain – can there be greater sin than spilling your own brother’s blood?”

Crawley decided to intervene. “Lord! Look, hasn’t he suffered enough?” He swallowed. “Blame me if you want!”

“Who are you, demon, to make such a demand?”

“Not a demand, Lord. A request, if you will…”

For a moment, silence fell on the valley. Crawley closed his eyes to await the verdict when he received unexpected assistance.

“Yes, please, oh Lord…” The angel’s voice sounded unnaturally hoarse, and when Crawley glanced at him, he saw his eyes were rimmed with red. “Would you, please, spare the boy?”

Crawley resigned himself to hearing a detailed description of how his own misconduct had ultimately led to the angel’s ward’s demise, but to his surprise, the angel chose a different tack. “The poor parents! They’ve already lost one son tonight; shall they lose the other, too?”

Cain was staring between them with wide, bloodshot eyes.

Finally, the Almighty spoke again, “You’re willing to take the blame, demon?”

Crawley swallowed and nodded. After all, he had already Fallen. How much worse could it really get?

The angel grimaced. “Maybe it’s my fault, too. In place of brotherly affection, I have encouraged rivalry.”

Crawley stared. To hear an angel agree with a demon,  _defend_ a demon, and oppose the Almighty, no less… Surely this meant the end was near.

The voice refocused its attention on the boy. “You have mighty advocates, Cain. What do  _you_ have to say?”

Cringing, the boy lowered his eyes. “It’s true, oh Lord, that I have gravely sinned. I have spilled my brother’s blood. I will never be able to forgive myself, and I alone should pay the price.”

“Hark then, Cain. From this day on, you shall be cursed from the ground that has opened its maw to drink your brother’s blood. If you till the soil, it will no longer yield its crops to you. A restless wanderer you shall be upon the Earth.”

Swallowing hard, Cain fell to his knees. “No, I-” He drew a shaky breath and closed his eyes. “How can I possibly live with what I’ve done?” He raised his hands in supplication. “This punishment is too much for me to bear. You have driven me from my land, and from you, too, I must hide. I shall be a fugitive, a stranger in a strange land. Even my craft is barred to me. Surely, anyone who comes across me will kill me.” *** His eyes went wide with sudden realization, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “All that awaits me is eternal damnation...”

“Not so, Cain. I will place a mark on you, so that everyone will know you’re under my protection. And anyone killing you shall suffer vengeance sevenfold.”

A black line began tracing itself onto Cain’s face. He cried out in surprise and pain as an elaborate symbol was etched into his features. Clapping a hand to his own mark, Crawley winced in sympathy. The Almighty sure had a cruel sense of irony.

As soon as the last drop of blood welled up on Cain’s face, the light disappeared as quickly as it had come. Hushed silence fell on the valley, that was only marred by the sound of their breathing and the goats bleating in the distance.

Finally, the angel broke the silence. “We have to tell the boys’ parents.” He turned towards Crawley in mute appeal.

Crawley shook his head. “I- Not a good idea. I don’t think my presence would be welcome at all.”

The angel nodded in understanding. “It’ll have to be me, then.” He sighed. “Come on, Cain.” He gently placed a hand on the still kneeling boy’s shoulder. “You have to face one last trial. And I expect you’ll want to say good-bye, as well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *) I made up the entire dialogue between the brothers. In the original text, there’s only mention that “Cain talked with Abel”, though in some translations that’s replaced with the more explicit, “Let us go out to the field.”
> 
> **) Again, I took a lot of liberties with the dialogue. Since neither angel nor demon are mentioned in the original text, I had to make some adjustments.
> 
> ***) If you’re wondering what other people Cain could possibly be worried about, that’s a very common question. The most common explanation is that Adam and Eve had more children, who intermarried and in turn had children and grandchildren. However, for the purpose of this story, I’m simply sort of assuming that God has created more humans elsewhere.


	7. The Arrangement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale faces the consequences in the form of Archangel Gabriel. Crawley makes a suggestion.

Aziraphale kept himself busy by cleaning up around the field. Among other things, he had destroyed the stone slab that had formed the altar. It could not return to its prior use of baking bread needed to feed a family, and he didn’t think it should ever be used for anything else. He also had miracled away the blood stains but was unable to erase the sense of evil that surrounded the place. The Almighty had been right; this particular patch of soil was cursed and would no longer produce food.

In the distance, he could hear Eve weeping and wailing, and he knew that Adam was suffering no less and merely dealing with his grief in a quieter way. He had offered to stay with the humans, but they needed time and space and hadn’t wanted anyone else around, not even an angel. As far as they were concerned, they had lost both of their children. Knowing that one of them had merely left, never to return, was small consolation when he had been responsible for the second one’s death.

He sighed. Despite everything, he was going to miss the humans. The atmosphere, the taste of actual food… everything had a more lively quality around them. Still, it wasn’t his choice to make. He had messed up and he was going to bear the consequences.

On cue, a swirl of leaves coalesced into Archangel Gabriel, who looked exactly the same as when Aziraphale had last seen him, down to his well-coiffed hair.

“Good morning, Aziraphale! How are you?” he greeted with, Aziraphale felt, inappropriate cheer.

Aziraphale stayed quiet. After all, what was he supposed to answer? What did Gabriel _think_ how he felt?

In another attempt at conversation, Gabriel nodded at the flaming sword that was still lying forgotten amidst the smouldering ashes of what had once been grass. “I see you’ve found your sword again.”

“Ah, yes…” Aziraphale briefly closed his eyes. If only he had never handed the humans the sword… Maybe all of this could have been avoided. He swallowed. “Erm, I suppose I’ll be returning to Eden, then?”

Gabriel blinked. “No. Why?”

Pent-up guilt and self-doubt burst out of Aziraphale. “I _failed_, didn’t I!? A child died*, and I was unable to prevent it. What kind of guardian angel am I, to fail this badly?”

Gabriel waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, I wouldn’t say ‘failed’. I’m sure you tried your best, and you’ll do better next time.”

Aziraphale gaped. “Next time?”

“The demon… what’s his name again? Never mind. We’re sure he’s going to see this as encouragement, so now we need someone to thwart him more than ever.”

“Well, maybe, but…” Aziraphale grimaced. “As the boy’s guardian angel, shouldn’t I… ?” He faltered.

Blithely ignoring him, Gabriel continued. “Besides, Heaven has scored its very first soul, which puts us ahead of Hell in that respect, so I suppose we’re all Good.” He gleefully rubbed his hands.

Aziraphale opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “How can you just stand there and say that?”

Gabriel raised his eyebrows. “_Whatever_ do you mean?”

“A child died, by the hand of his own brother! How can you be so… so cold about this?”

“I don’t appreciate your emotional outburst,” the Archangel snapped. “I understand that you’re upset, and of course we need to make sure it doesn’t happen again, but you need to see the bigger picture.”

“The bigger picture,” Aziraphale repeated weakly.

Gabriel nodded energetically. “Yes. Thanks to your contribution, Heaven has gained a pure and innocent soul, while Hell has not yet got possession of the soul of the boy’s wicked brother. And that means there’s a chance we might still come out ahead.” He smiled smugly.

_You weren’t here_, Aziraphale thought uncharitably. _You have no idea what the humans are like, or how much the parents are suffering. How high the price is that _everyone_ in the family has paid. _But he wisely kept his thoughts to himself. Still, he narrowed his eyes. “Why are you here, then, if not to send me back?”

Gabriel clapped his hands in a business-like manner. “Had to check in with you, didn't I? Make sure your motivation hasn’t taken a blow. After all, we need you at your _best_ performance.” He raised his eyebrows. “Do you think you can do that?”

Aziraphale blinked. “Um. Yes. Yes, of course.”

The Archangel glanced around, wrinkling his nose in distaste. More to himself than to Aziraphale he muttered, “Why would anyone want to live here, anyway?”

Aziraphale kept quiet. It was a rhetorical question, and Gabriel might not let another disagreement slide so easily.

“Anyway, it’s been great seeing you, Aziraphale. Keep up the good work!” With a last nod at Aziraphale, the Archangel faded back into the small heap of leaves that were subsequently lifted up to be carried away by the wind.

“Good work,” Aziraphale mumbled to himself, shaking his head in disbelief.

~ * ~ * ~

“So you’re staying around then?”

Aziraphale gave a startled yelp. “Will you stop doing that?” he said, glaring at the demon. “Were you spying on me?”

The demon shrugged. “Of course I was. I’m a demon.”

Aziraphale was still too worked up by Gabriel’s comments to have much patience with the demon’s antics. He gritted his teeth.

“They don’t know…” the demon muttered, almost to himself.

Aziraphale blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“You never told them you gave away your sword.”

“Ah, well…”

The demon grinned. “You _lied_.”

“I- I didn’t. I may have… stretched the truth a bit.”

“You did,” the demon crowed. “You lied to Archangel _fucking_ Gabriel.” His eyes were sparkling with horrified delight.

Aziraphale nervously licked his lips. “Uh…”

The demon smirked. “You surprise me, angel.”

Aziraphale sighed. “Are you going to tell?”

“What?! No, of course not! _I’m_ lying to my boss all the time.”

“Yes, but you’re a demon,” Aziraphale pointed out. “That’s probably _expected_ of you.”

“Nah, not really.” The demon shrugged. “But what’s a little rebellion among angels?”

The last time angels had rebelled against higher authority had been… Aziraphale swallowed. “I don’t fancy _Falling_...”

The demon grimaced. “No. No, you wouldn’t…”

They were both lost in thought for a while, until Aziraphale finally resumed the conversation. “What did _your_ lot say?”

“Oh, they’re exceedingly pleased with me. Obviously.”

“Obviously? But you hardly had anything to do with it,” Aziraphale pointed out doubtfully.

The demon gave another shrug. “Doesn’t mean I can’t take credit for it.”

Aziraphale stared at him.

“Oh, don’t look so scandalized, angel! Neither of us can reverse the flow of time. Might as well be pragmatic about it.”

“Why is everyone so willing to pretend nothing has happened?” Aziraphale asked in a plaintive voice. He sighed. “At least _you_ have a valid excuse…” He closed his eyes for a moment. “But that doesn’t change the fact that a _child_ was killed. On our watch, too!”

Hissing, the demon drew in a slow breath. “Erm, about that…” He paused for a moment, then plunged onward. “Listen, angel. For humanity’s sake, I think it might be best if we… stay out of each other’s way from now on.”

Aziraphale blinked. “What do you mean?”

“You perpetrate good deeds _here_. I Tempt people to evil over _there_. We don’t interact, and we _especially_ don’t use humans to fight our battles.”

“I’d rather you didn’t Tempt _anyone_.”

“I’m afraid that’s not an available option, angel.” The demon airily waved a hand. “Oh, don’t worry: Good and Evil will probably cancel each other out in the long run. And you have to admit that us taking sides here _did_ play a role in escalating the conflict.”

Aziraphale bit his lips. “I suppose that’s true.”

“So if we were to, as I said, stay out of each other’s way and focus on our own brand of angelic - or demonic - influence without directly opposing one another…” He trailed off, waiting for Aziraphale to catch on.

“But then I wouldn’t be thwarting your wiles!”

“You would be thwarting _something_! Do you think Heaven really gives a damn about the _source_ of any evil you’re foiling?”

Aziraphale thought of Gabriel keeping a tally on the souls assigned to Heaven or Hell, and reluctantly shook his head.

“So… What do you say?” The demon gazed at him with wide, unblinking eyes.

Aziraphale narrowed his own eyes. “How do I know this isn’t part of a nefarious plot?”

The demon hesitated. “Erm, I guess you don’t.”

Aziraphale sighed. “Can you answer one question, demon? Honestly, I mean?” There was one question that had been eating at him for quite some time, and though he had little hope of getting a straight answer out of the demon, he had to at least try.

“Um, maybe…” The demon’s eyes darted sideways.

“What _were_ you planning to do with Cain? I don’t believe it was to make him kill anyone, but then what _was_ your plan?”

The demon shifted from one foot to the other. “I don’t have to answer that.”

“You do if you want me to agree to your ridiculous scheme.”

The demon scowled. “There _was_ no plan, okay?! I was making it up as I went along.”

Somehow, Aziraphale found he was not surprised. Of course, the demon could be lying about this, too, but Aziraphale had spent a lot of time around him and had seen how he acted in difficult circumstances. And right now, his gut feeling told him the demon was telling the truth.

Thoughtfully, he nodded to himself. “Agreed, then. We’ll stay out of each other’s way.”

The demon drew himself up straight.

“_If_ -” Aziraphale stressed.

“Great. Conditions…” the demon muttered, returning to his former slouch.

“If,” Aziraphale repeated, “_you_ could refrain from being terribly evil –”

“Yeah, right. Like you’d just trust me on that.”

“- then _I_ won’t have to act to directly oppose you.”

The demon sighed. “Fair enough, angel.”

With great determination, Aziraphale stuck out his hand once again. He wasn’t going to let the demon walk away from this one. “Aziraphale,” he stated meaningfully.

The demon stared at the proffered hand, then raised his yellow eyes to meet Aziraphale’s. Closing his eyes, he visibly swallowed. “All right then,” he sighed, grasping Aziraphale’s hand. “Crawley.”

Aziraphale wasn’t sure what he had expected, but the demon’s hand – _Crawley’s_, he corrected himself – felt surprisingly normal. It was a firm hand shake, though maybe the demon’s temperature ran a tad higher than Aziraphale’s.

The demon let go first, flexing his own hand as if he’d been stung. He raised an eyebrow. “Not that it matters, since we won’t be seeing each other again. Right?”

“Right.”

The demon – Crawley - raised an invisible cup. “To inspiring humans to Good and to Evil.”

Aziraphale responded primly, “I’m not going to toast to evil activity. Not even with an invisible drink.”

Crawley snorted. “To humanity, then.” He smirked. “For better or worse.”

Aziraphale didn’t reply, but he had to bite back a smile.

Crawley grinned. “See you around then, angel.”

“I thought you said –” But, once again, the demon had already gone.

Aziraphale shook his head. It might be interesting to talk to him again once in a while. The demon could be irritating and confusing, but nevertheless he had found their conversations rather enjoyable.

But now there were other things to do. Abel’s goats were bleating in distress. In the long run, Aziraphale was confident that Adam, or more likely Eve, would take over Abel’s duties, but as long as the parents were wrapped up in their grief, it was up to Aziraphale to feed the animals. Besides, the parents probably required help in preparing their son’s funeral. Surely, some spiritual guidance would not go amiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *) While the original text gives no clear indication to the brothers’ ages, there’s later mention of Adam having been 130 years old at this point, which means that both Cain and Abel must have been well past adulthood, too. However, as you can see, I completely ignored that information, simply because I think it makes for a better story.
> 
> \----------------------------------
> 
> Hey, glad you made it this far!
> 
> Please take the time to leave some comments. I'd love to hear what you liked or disliked. I'm particularly curious about who you might think was responsible for Abel's death, and why. But any other comments are welcome too. :)
> 
> If you're interested, you could also check out my other (Good Omens) stories, too.


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